


Cobalt Lines

by sunnynights



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Detective Noir, Gen, Murder Mystery, Police Procedural, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnynights/pseuds/sunnynights
Summary: The rest of the New Kamordah Police Department tells her to drop it, but Detective Beauregard Lionett can’t let the murder of an exotic dancer go unsolved
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Black community needs your support now more than ever. Please go sign petitions relating to the BLM movement, donate (to a reputable foundation), and spread resources on how to make a difference!

_New Kamordah was built on land forsaken by the gods._ Clara Lionett held her daughter close in a rare moment of tenderness as she said it, her face turned away to hide the red mark across her cheek. _The soil beneath our feet is cursed to stave away growth. Greed and complacency will ruin us all._

At the time, Beauregard was too young to understand what happened behind closed doors, but she still remembered those words. They rang even truer by the day. America basked in its post-war euphoria, championing its victory over tyranny abroad, yet turned a blind eye to the villains in its own bed. New Kamordah was the worst of it. The streets flowed with rivers of blood and dirty money, and all they could do is wallow in whatever vice helped them get by.

Beau filled her lungs with the last of her cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke into the lazy afternoon chatter of the police station and read the sheet of paper for the tenth time. Her desk was covered with robberies, bar fights, drug charges ad infinitum. Yet her attention was on the bare case file that had been cast aside: Mollymauk Tealeaf was an exotic dancer shot point-blank through the chest in the alley behind the club where he worked. His body was found later that night by the bouncer. No one inside heard him die and his killer was the last thing he saw.

Beau sighed, flicked the butt into an ashtray, and stood up. The other detectives' eyes ran over her dismissively as she walked up to the captain's door and pushed it open.

"Your fancy private schools never teach you how to knock, Lionett?" Captain Dairon tilted back in their chair, brow furrowed when they saw what Beau held in her hand. "I believe we were done talking about that case."

Beau pulled up a chair and dropped down. "Captain, give me a chance."

"We've got enough crime to last you a lifetime without wasting time on dead hookers. It's a reelection year, so if you could..."

"I don't care about the mayor and his bullshit politics. And this _victim_ wasn't a hooker."

"Watch your mouth." Dairon flashed a warning glare and turned back to their desk, shuffling through paperwork. "As far as the city cares, he was. Half of them end up dead anyway, probably killed by some john or a drug dealer they owed money to."

Beau bounced her leg furiously. "So he gets swept under the rug?"

"You're not a beat cop that answers every call anymore, Lionett. No witnesses, no next of kin, and no evidence means no leads and low priority."

"There are no leads because no one's investigated yet!" Beau took a breath, trying not to raise her voice. "How's it going to look on the city when someone else dies from the same MO?"

Dairon flicked their eyes up at her. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"Stubborn. Just like your father." They shook their head, a sad smile lifting at the corner of their mouth. "Is that why you're taking this so personally?"

Beau sat up straight and pushed down the wave of disgust at the comparison. "It became personal when a man was murdered in my city and his case landed on my desk."

Dairon opened a desk drawer and pulled a cigarette from the box, not offering one to Beau. They lit it and took a long draw. After several seconds of filling the tense silence with smoke, Dairon gave in.

"Two days. On Monday morning, you will do your job the way I tell you to, without any distractions or backtalk."

"Just two days?"

"Or you can give me your badge and gun and take as much time as you need," Dairon countered with a steely-eyed gaze. "This is a welcome gift to the force and a favor for Thoreau. You will not get another."

 _I don't need any favors done in his name._ "Thank you, captain."

"Dismissed."

Beau stood to leave, relishing her shred of triumph. Her hand was on the doorknob when Dairon spoke once more.

"You have the makings of a good detective. You'll never be a great one until you learn how the game is played."

Beau chewed her lip as she walked out of the office, out of the station, and into downtown New Kamordah. The streets were grimy, littered with wet newspapers and cigarette butts. Newer buildings towered over the dilapidated ruins of their forefathers. She twisted away in time to avoid getting splashed by a car speeding through a puddle. She knew the type that was inside, people that wouldn't be caught dead roaming these streets by nightfall, their windows heavily tinted to shield their eyes from the outside world. She had almost become one of these wealthy, complacent onlookers in this city of sin. Beau looked again at the case file clenched in her hand, _her_ murder case. 

_My loyalty lies with the people I've sworn to protect, the ones that can't help themselves. Not the cobalt uniform._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked for a 1950s vaguely noir-ish murder mystery but here it is
> 
> Someone arrest me for starting another long fic when I already have like 5 WIPs


	2. Chapter 2

Beau ran her eyes over the unlit neon sign. Despite its name, the club was neither lavish nor a chateau. It was a squat, wide building with peeling murals decorating the outside. She paused at the front door, and instead decided to inspect the space running between the club and Chastity's Nook, an adult book store.

The back alley was dark, even in the daylight. Beau stepped carefully to avoid the broken glass littering the ground. She pulled out a flashlight and scanned the path. At the far end was a side door to the Lavish Chateau, and a few feet away was a dark bloodstain on the concrete. The alley was narrow and difficult to see from the street; Mollymauk must have walked out of the building and been killed by someone already waiting there. Beau turned to see a woman standing at the opening of the alley into the street.

"We are not open," Her words were quiet but firm, laced with a Soviet accent. "Out of the alley, please."

Beau walked up, inspecting her in the light. She was tall, strong, and pale as snow. Her muscles pulled at the seams of her grey suit, and Beau’s eyes were drawn to the pistol covertly tucked into her waistband. 

“Do you work here?”

“I do,” the woman responded warily.

Beau pulled out her badge. "I'm here to ask some questions about your dead coworker."

The woman straightened, her stiffness replaced by an earnest quality. "Of course. Please come in."

Beau allowed herself to be led through the front doors of the Lavish Chateau, looking around curiously. She had seen her fair share of strip clubs but never during the day. It was relatively clean, filled with tables and seats. Across the room was a large stage, painted with almost a fairy tale-esque theme and flanked by short stairs and flowing curtains. More suited for a theater production than something of this nature. Against one wall was a bar and on the other were multiple doorways, probably leading to private rooms.

"My name is Yasha. I am sorry for being impolite, I am security and the dancers have been very nervous since Molly was killed."

"Mhmm. The door in the alley, where does it lead?"

"It opens up over there," Yasha pointed. Tucked into the corner beside the stage was a short hallway marked as restrooms.

"Yasha, I can't find the..." An impossibly beautiful woman came out from backstage, ruffled blue dress cheerfully bouncing as she pushed through the curtains. Her glance flicked towards Beau. "Hi?"

Yasha sat down at a table and motioned for them to do the same. "The police are here to get justice for Molly."

The woman smiled, her big sapphire eyes sparkling. "Really? We had honestly given up hope that someone would help us!” She held out a hand. “Thank you so much for coming. My name is Jester Lavorre."

"Detective Beauregard, with the New Kamordah Police Department," she said as she shook Jester's hand. “Are you a dancer here?”

“I’m a _performer,_ yes. I inherited the Chateau from my mother and worked alongside Mollymauk.”

Beau pulled out a notepad. "Can you tell me what happened that night?"

Jester smoothed out her dress with a sigh. “The last time I saw Molly was backstage. He was sweaty and happy and beautiful. Full of life. I’m sorry that I don’t know anything more. I went on right after him and the music was too loud to hear gunshots or anything.”

"It's my fault," Yasha spoke up. "It's my job to protect the performers. He disappeared around midnight. It was after his set, so I thought he had just gone home. I found his...his body a few hours later when we were closing and called the police."

"Were you two close to him?"

"I came to this country after my wife was killed," Yasha said shakily. "The war had just ended, it was hard for Soviets to find work. He helped me get this job. For some time,” her voice cracked. “He was all I had."

Jester put her hand on Yasha's shoulder. "He was our best friend. Molly was a rainbow of a man, both on and off the stage."

"Did he have any enemies? Anyone that he rubbed the wrong way?"

Jester shook her head. "He could be a lot sometimes. But even when he was just having fun, he had a way of making people feel good."

"Leave every place better than you found it," voiced Yasha.

Beau internally rolled her eyes. _Self-important bastard._ "Was there anyone else in his life? A girlfriend, boyfriend?"

"He was seeing a man who owned a bookstore," Jester said, giving his name and address.

Beau finished scribbling her notes and looked up. "One last thing. Yasha, where were you at the time of the murder?"

Jester drew back. "You _can't_ think that she did this. She loved him."

"It’s standard procedure. She has a gun and she was the first person on the scene."

"I was by the bar," Yasha answered. "Making sure no one got disorderly."

"I saw her there the whole time," Jester quickly added. "So did the bartender, you can ask him."

Beau traced the room with her eyes, picturing the scene. Low lights, blaring music, packed with bodies. "That puts you right beside the front door."

"Yes."

"You said you thought he went home. But if he had left, you would have seen him." Beau watched Yasha share a nervous glance with Jester. “If you don’t give me the whole truth, I can’t help you.”

"Molly experimented with drugs sometimes. But we didn’t like him using backstage. That’s why it wasn’t out of place for him to be in the bathrooms or the alley."

"Be honest, does someone at the club deal?"

Jester nodded. "But he didn't kill Molly. If you come back tonight and don’t draw too much attention to yourself, he'll speak with you."

Beau couldn't hold back a dismissive smile. "A dealer willing to cooperate with the cops?"

"He cared about Molly too. We all want to see his killer brought to justice."

"A regular saint," Beau pulled a card from her pocket and slid it across the table. "Call the station if you think of anything else that may be useful."

"Lionett," Jester read the card and looked up. "I read about your father in the papers, I'm so sorry for your loss."

Beau rose up from her seat, jamming her notepad into her jacket more roughly than she meant to. "And I'm sorry for yours. Mollymauk's murder is a more pressing concern."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACAB includes Detective Beau, sorry I don’t make the rules


End file.
